Save You
by the homo club
Summary: Dave is tiered of his boring, dull life in the calm town of Maybury. But when he meets John Egbert after "saving" him, how will things in his life become more interesting? Will meeting him turn his life for the better? (DaveJohn, JohnDave, PepsiCola, Hammertime, whatever you want to call it. Mostly fluff, rated T for swearing and Dave in general. Still in progress!)
1. Chapter 1

The small town of Maybury is quiet, and everyone thinks its perfect.

But not to me.

I hate the perfect, almost identical houses, I hate the year-around-green grass, I hate how people always act so happy-go-lucky, and most of all I hate that no one can say "No" without "thank you" following behind it.

My name is Dave Strider, and I am in need of some sort of excitement in my 18 year-old life.

I currently sit on the balcony next to my bedroom, looking out to the field across from me and listening to mixes I made sometime last night.

I close my eyes for a second and sigh. I hate these new mixes. I push the headphones off of my head and onto my neck, sighing again. Why is it that every time I make mixes that I like at the time turn out to be complete and utter shit? Ugh.

A yelping...Shout type noise reaches my ears and I open my eyes. I see a short kid being beat up by three guys that look about my height. Now, I'm many things: A dick, a hypocrite, a player- but one thing I am not? Someone that lets some kid get beat up when I can very well help him out.

I dash out of my messy room and into the hall where I throw on my sneakers. Once I get to the front door, I toss on my shades and dash across the street to the bright green field that lay opposite of my house.

The kid shouts something along the lines of "Leave me alone! I didn't do anything to you!" and gets punched straight in the jaw. He makes this squeal-y, yelp noise and I lose my shit. You do _not _punch someone in the jaw for no reason. "Hey!" I shout, feeling quite proud of my deeper voice that I almost forgot I had. "Get your jock asses off that guy before I beat the living shit out of you."

I step closer to the guy about to trow another punch at the guy on the ground. "You little-" "Shut the fuck up. You don't punch someone while they're down, that going double in this case, since he obviously doesn't want to fucking fight. So, if he doesn't want to, allow me to kick your asses."

They all turn to me and back off the guy on the ground who is clutching his nose. The tallest guy throws a punch, so I just flash-step to the side and punch him in the temple. I kick the second guy coming at me in the nuts, and punch him in the stomach to top it off. The third guy just runs. "Wise choice." I mumble, walking to the guy on the ground.

The first thing I notice about him is his eyes - that sounds gay but holy shit they're like an unreal shade of bright blue. His hair is kinda tossed around his head, and it's short, black and messy. It looks like he's looking for his glasses in the tall grass, but I step closer to him and he backs up slightly.

He's still on the ground, and he's still clutching his nose. He looks scared of me, and it makes me kind of sad. "Hey," I say quietly, like I don't want to scare him. Which I don't. "Don't worry about it, I'm here to help, bro. Show me your nose."

I bend down in front of him. He looks at me awhile before speaking in a soft, high voice saying, "I can't see anything, I need my glasses." His voice is so much softer then I thought it'd be, and it's almost nice. "Yeah, okay. I'll find your glasses, just show my your nose. It might be broken." My voice is just a little louder now.

"...Okay." He lets go of his bloody nose, and I can see him cringe. I examine his noes for a bit, turning his head when needed. I'm no fucking doctor, but when I was younger I strifed with Bro enough times to know when something is broken. "You're fine. It's just bleeding a bit. You should probably rest for awhile dude. You got his pretty hard." I fail to keep a bit of my Texan accent out of my voice and the word "probably" comes out as "prolly".

I don't know why I'm being so caring for this guy I just met, but I really can't help it. He just gives off this feel of being a little kid and it makes me want to fix him up ugh. "...But I live like four blocks away.." He says, sounding a bit disappointed. "Well then come over to my place- it's like right across the street. I'll get you fixed up and send you home." He looks up at me quickly.

"But I only just met you."

"And I only just saved your ass."

"You could be anyone."

"But I'm not."

"You could want to kill me, how would I know?"

"You can't. But I just beat up three punks to keep you from getting your shit wreaked, you think I went through all that trouble to kill you in the end?"

"Hmm...Okay fine. But I have to know your name."

"Dave Strider. You?"

"John Egbert."

I smirk, feeling pleased with the exchange. "Okay, lets find your glasses Egbert." We spend the next 15 minutes trying to find his fucking glasses.

They're huge, I have no idea how we didn't find them. They have thick glass and big black frames. They sit on his nose snugly, looking like they were built for his face.

"Okay then Egbert, lets go get all that blood off of your face." I say, standing up and offering him a hand. He takes it and I pull him off the grass, then starting to walk across the street.

Once we get to my house, I lead him to the kitchen and start to wash dried blood off of his face with a wet washcloth. "So what was the deal with those dickheads?" I ask, throwing the washcloth into the sink and getting ice for him. "I dunno. I get bullied a lot, I guess." He said, shrugging. "That's it? They had no reason for punching you in the fucking face?" I ask, almost in anger. "Yeah."

"Well do you know their names?"

"Why?"

"Because I really fucking hate it when dicks pick their fights with people they know they can beat, and I'm not gonna fucking stand for it."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Yeah I do."

"And why is that?"

"Because I made an investment when I decided to save you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I haven't updated in 173849857300 years omg

please don't call the cell number in this because its for a chinese takeout thing in Canada somewhere i think and I want to save you the embarrassment

* * *

After I clean up John's bloody nose and let him rest for a few minutes, he tells me that he needs to get home soon.

"What's the rush, man? You living with your parents or something?" I ask, ringing out the washcloth that I used to clean up his bloody nose. He shakes his head slightly, messy black hair rustling around a little.

"Nope, I just got a test in the morning. I live in the apartment building a few blocks away," He says, climbing off of the counter I sat him on. "I moved out of my dad's house a few years ago."

After a few more minutes of talking, I offer to drive him back to his apartment. "Yeah, that'd be great!" He says, giving me a huge smile. Shit, he's really fucking cute.

* * *

On the drive to John's place, he offers to see me again so we can hang out. I (of fucking course) say yes, and we agree on meeting up at the park across from his school. Soon enough, we're at the plain-looking collage, but before John climbs out of the car, he turns to me and gives me a big smile, even happier then the first one he gave me. "Thanks for driving me here, Dave!" He says happily, suddenly stopping. He reaches into his pocket, and then he's holding a black Sharpie.

"Here," He says, grabbing my hand and writing something on it. "So we know when to meet up tomorrow! Call me anytime after 12, okay? Bye Dave!" He says, stuffing his pen back in his pocket and hopping out of the car, noticing someone he probably knew and waving to them.

After a moment of just sitting there, thinking 'holy shit I just got that dudes number without asking', I finally pull off and head back to my house.

Later in the night, I'm laying in my bed, my hand over my head. I just keep reading out the little message over and over again in my head.

_317-461-1232_

_thanks for fixing me up cool kid!_

I sigh. Fuck, I'm pretty sure I'm falling for this dork.

Hard.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

* * *

Considering I went to sleep at nearly four in the morning, waking up at two in the afternoon is pretty okay. For me, at least.

I sit up in bed and sigh. My room's a fucking mess (as usual) and I'm really fucking hungry.

I stand up and walk down stairs, going to get me some kind of breakfast. After I eat, I pull myself back of the stairs and take a shower, brush my hair, etc. By the time I'm done, it's around two forty. I should probably call John.

So, I do. I type his number into my phone, and it doesn't take him too long to answer.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey Egbert."

_"Oh, it's you! Hey Dave!" _I hear him say through the phone, voice as happy as it was yesterday, smile obvious in his tone.

"Yup. Hey, you still up for meeting at that park across from your school or whatever?"

_"Yeah, 'course! I just gotta finish up the last bit of homework I have left from yesterday."_

"Yeah, alright. When you wanna meet up?"

_"Um...How about an hour from now?"_

"Sounds cool. See ya in an hour then, Egbert. Later."

_"G'Bye!"_

I hang up my phone and set it on my bed, going to put some decent clothes on.

Then I realize;

Shit, I'm practically on a date with this guy.

The guy I met yesterday.

The guy that's a year younger then me and 5"5.

The guy I'm seriously falling for even through I know jack squat about him.

Then I realize;

This is probably the excitement I need in my 18-year-old life.


End file.
